See the Sun
by Nenya Entwhistle
Summary: (COMPLETE) In their own voices, Harry and Draco sum up the love that has lasted them more than a decade. Their love has always been seen as a bit odd, but it has endured and it was going to endure one more challenge to see the sun set again on their last
1. Sunrise

**SEE THE SUN  
**By Nenya Entwhistle

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a brief turn in words.

**Warning:** This is slash and this has not been beta'd. Read at your own risk and do not bother sending me flames about the homo-love-lines. I'll just assume you can't read.

_And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day  
__But I promise you you'll see the sun again  
__And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness  
__And I promise you you'll see the sun again  
__"See the Sun" (Dido)_

One  
_Sunrise_

People didn't understand our relationship. It had been a decade and still whenever we walked in Hogsmeade hand in hand, people still stopped and stared at us. I didn't understand what they didn't understand. But I could no longer bring myself to care what they thought or what the Daily Prophet gossiped about. It no longer matter. What mattered instead was the secret you had kept hiding from me until yesterday night.

_I'm sick. _

I didn't want to believe it. But I had no choice in the matter. Dumbledore and Snape had both confirmed it. You were sick as I was healthy. I wanted to deny the undeniable, even if it did not change the fact that you were very sick. If I kept saying it enough, maybe it would come true.

"I'm not going to die on you," you promised. "Poppy said that there's a good chance that I won't even have much downtime." You smiled that devastating smile that always brought me into a puddle of unresisting goo. "Stop being such a worrywart."

It was hard to take you serious though. I knew nothing about the disease that Pomfrey had diagnosed in you a year or so ago. All I knew was it was some sort of muggle sickness that affected the body in such a way that it made the body's defense fight against its own self.

I needed to know more about it and that was why I was going to Hermione for help. She was one of the few people that I trusted not to become an emotional disaster before being able to help me. But I knew that should I break this news to her, she was going to get a little emotional on me. This was going to crack down even her logical and no nonsense attitude.

When you were going to tell Weasley, Merlin I pitied you.

"Draco," she greeted me with a questioning look, "whatever brings you here?"

I made a point of never coming to the Granger-Weasley household unless it was something I couldn't avoid, like holidays dinners and celebrations of the sort that you insisted that I attend. I was here now, on my free will, and Hermione being the smart and clever witch that she was--- she knew that something was up.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," I remarked pleasantly enough. I liked her well enough for being a notorious Gryffindor. She, I believed had some Slytherin tendencies though her real redeeming qualities was her overwhelming Ravenclaw traits that sometimes inundated her Gryffindor ones. "May I come in and talk to you?"

"Why of course," she responded, moving aside so that I might enter. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"

I politely declined her hospitality. I didn't want to get trapped into a social visit when this wasn't one even remotely of the sort. What I wanted was to ask my questions and get the information and run back to Hogwarts. Hopefully by the time I could get away, you would be done teaching your Defense against the Dark Arts class and I could snog you silly.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked after we had both seated ourselves down on her couch.

"It's more like I need to ask you some questions that I hope you can answer," I began blandly. "Figuring how much you tend to know, I assume you'd know this."

She smiled. Still there was nothing that pleased Hermione than being able to use her book knowledge for something. It didn't matter if it was for her own benefit or not, she just liked using it. "If I can answer it, then I will," she promised.

"I was hoping you'd say that," I responded. Here went everything. I knew to ask this, would bring questions on why I wanted to know this kind of information. I was prepared to tell her because I had no choice. Of course, I would have to swear her to secrecy. You didn't want anyone to know about it just yet. "What do you know about leukemia?"

She blinked. She looked surprised. It was hard to really surprise Hermione. She had taken in the vigilance lessons that were taught to aurors very seriously, even if she hadn't gone on to become a field auror. Instead, she was a talented mission's specialist who coordinated efforts. It was an impressive job for one as young as she was. "Why do you want to know?" she phrased her question carefully.

There was no avoiding the issue, not even for a minute. Here went nothing. "Harry's sick."

"Harry's sick?"

Good Merlin, she was struck dumb if she was repeating words that were coming from my mouth. I almost wished you were here to see it. You would have joked about it later in our rooms about it, I'm sure. But you weren't here and it was a good thing you weren't. You'd probably yell at me for not having the sense I was born with for going behind your back like this and telling her.

"Yes."

"With leukemia?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip. Her forehead wrinkled. She was distressed. She was handling it a good deal better than I had when you told me. I had stared at you stunned before screaming my head off. You were a rite of patience as you let me get over my fit. I ought to have been comforting you, but you were the one comforting me. Sometimes, I almost understood why everyone thought it was weird you were with me but then I remembered that _love is not sane. _For it wasn't.

"I don't know much about leukemia," she finally stated after her expression had undergone a bizarre wrinkling before settling back down into pinched look. "What I do know is that it's a type of cancer that affects the bone marrow and that it usually takes a bone marrow transplant for someone afflicted with it to get better. Bone marrow match ups are very hard to get."

I nodded dumbly. That was already more information than I had gotten out of you. You told me that you didn't want to talk about it. You wanted instead to talk about my day in the Charms classroom or about your day with your students. You'd even prefer commenting about how Snape seemed to be getting mellower in his old age. You'd talk about anything but your illness. It was frustrating at best.

"If you want, I can research it and print out some stuff from my computer and owl it to you," she offered, her eyes reflecting her concern for me and you.

If she wanted to owl me, I definitely didn't want you to see it and you had a notoriously bad habit of going through my mail. "If you send me anything, can you make sure that your owl goes only to my office?"

She looked at me perceptively. "Harry doesn't know that you're here, does he?" She didn't miss anything.

"No, he doesn't."

"Let me guess," she murmured, "he doesn't want me or Ron to know until matters get serious, am I right?"

What could I do but nod? That was the exact reason you'd given me.

She sighed tiredly. "Promise to keep me posted?"

"I swear," I vowed.

She smiled sadly. "If you need anyone to talk to, you can come here." I stared at her hard. "I usually come back at lunch to make myself something to eat and Ron always eats with his squad so he's never here."

She was intentionally inviting me at a time I would find irresistible, when her husband wasn't there. "Maybe," I whispered, for that was all I could say. I didn't plan on taking her up on the offer, but there was no way of saying that it'd never happen. It might, especially if things got desperate and I needed someone to hear me out so I wouldn't shout at you. "I might do that." I smiled somewhat at her. "I should be going. I've got some papers to grade."

I turned to leave and I heard her say, "Draco?"

My head turned around. "Yes?"

"Take care of him."

"I will," I promised.

I heard her say, "I know," before I apparated out of the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The office was purposely disorganized when you walked in. I didn't want you to think for even a minute that I hadn't been anywhere but in my office. Instead, I sat behind a pile of papers that made it looked like that was what I had been doing for the past few hours. What you didn't know wouldn't hurt you.

"Hey love," you said as you greeted me with a trademark kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Almost done with your papers for this evening?"

I wasn't done, but you didn't need to know that. I gave you that smile that you always said made your knees weak and leaned down to kiss you solidly on the lips. "Yeah, are you?"

"I am."

"What would you like to do after dinner tonight?" I asked softly, trying to makeup for the way that I had yelled at you yesterday. "See Weasley and Hermione?"

You sighed, but there was a note of interest in your eyes. "I still don't understand," you muttered, "why you can't call Ron by his first name when you do so for Hermione."

"Hermione has earned my respect," and _my _loyalty,"which is something that Weasley hasn't done."

"I don't think I want to see them tonight," you remarked. I raised an eyebrow at that. You usually didn't pass up a chance to see your favorite duo, especially since I was notoriously reluctant about visiting them with you. You must have not wanted to face them, especially when you were going to have to hide your secret from them. "Why don't we spend tonight together?"

I would like nothing better than to have you just to myself. To imagine what I could do to you while you let me have my wicked way with you was a delicious thought. I was brought from my reverie of how I'd make you beg me and scream my name when I heard you chuckling. When the dreams cleared from my eyes, I saw clearly that you knew what I was thinking.

What you said a second later only confirmed it: "Later."

It was a promise I was going to make you keep. "Later," I agreed.

You reached out and grabbed my hand. Our fingers threaded together. "I'm looking forward to tonight," you whispered into my ear. Whoever said pictures were more erotic than words didn't know what you could do with your tongue. "Are you going to ravish me or am I going to ravish you?"

A tingle went down my back; you were a very bad boy Harry.

"Hmmm?"

I growled.

You laughed musically. "Is that your answer, my dragon?"

I pinned you with a look of wanting. "I could give my answer now if you wanted."

"Dinner first," you admonished, "and then it will be understandable if we don't leave our quarters for a long, long time."

With an answer like that, how could I not let you drag me to the Great Hall? Which you did and I let you. After all, if I planned to make the most of tonight like I did nearly every night, I needed the food sustenance to do so. Food was an ally, and you--- you were dessert.

"Let's go," I snapped. The faster we ate, the faster we could scream and moan and make all those passionate sounds that always accompanied a good bout of love-making. You smiled, understandingly. I smirked, anticipating already what was to come.

-

**Author's Note:** I have never written a story like this before. If you are worried about Harry dying like in my other drastically different story, The Stockholm Syndrome, don't worry. Harry will stay alive in this one. This will be a comprehensive and short novella (probably the same length as the previous) about an enduring love that lasts through major or minor difficulties. Please tell me what you think of what has happened so far, feedback is always inspirational. And if it encourages me, I might just start the next chapter.

**TBC** _soon_.


	2. You and I

**SEE THE SUN  
**By Nenya Entwhistle

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a brief turn in words.

**Warning:** This is slash and this has not been beta'd. Read at your own risk and do not bother sending me flames about the homo-love-lines. I'll just assume you can't read.

_Do you remember telling me?  
__You'd found the sweetest thing of all  
__You said one day of this was worth dying for  
__So be thankful you knew him at all  
__"See the Sun" (Dido)_

Two  
_You and I_

Waking up next to you was the best thing. It was even better to wake up before you and be able to see the serene beauty on your pristine features while you were sleeping. It was the only time I could catch you completely unguarded. Have I ever mentioned how much you remind me of an angel?

I should tell you sometime, that I think of you as my guardian angel. I have a feeling that you won't believe me because it was a ludicrous thought of you ever being that good enough to be angelic. But you have always protected me, even when we were more enemies than friends.

_I love you so much._

"Mmm…," you moaned as you opened one of your grey eyes, "Harry? What time is it?" Your voice sounded pleasantly lethargic. I felt a smile curve my lips upward. I had worn you out, my poor Dragon. "Hmmm?"

"It's 8," I answered.

"It's too early."

For a Saturday, yes, I had to agree that it was rather early. But you didn't have to wake up, I was content just watching you sleep most of the day away if you wished it. Since you were up though, I was more than willing to take advantage of that. "It's not that early," I countered.

You groaned.

I pointed my wand at your mouth and murmured a mouth-washing charm. Then I kissed you, thoroughly, in the manner that said made you feel as if you were a step away from heaven. "Let's go flying," I murmured when I managed to pull away. "We haven't been in a while."

"Harry," you grumbled, "it's 8 in the morning."

I gave you my puppy eyed look.

You growled.

"Please love?"

You sighed.

I smiled. I'd won.

-

Hand in hand, we walked into the Great Hall. Sitting at the main table as always was my mentor and guide, Albus Dumbledore, still the Headmaster of Hogwarts. To his right was my former head of house and dear comrade, Minerva McGonagall and to his left was your godfather and my friend, Severus Snape. As was usual, the three of them were in a serious debate, Minerva on one side and Severus on the other.

"Harry!" Minerva called out. "Don't you agree that Transfiguration is a much harder subject matter than Potions?"

Inwardly, I cringed and I felt your hand squeeze mine rigidly. Both you and I had been in the middle of this grand and on-going debate for the last five or so years? We agreed that Severus and Minerva had gotten quite childish and petty with their increased age. And as former house members, they expected us to take sides.

"Eh," I mumbled.

"You can't expect Harry," Severus drawled, "to agree with you that Transfiguration is a much harder subject matter when he barely passed his Potions NEWTs and got an O in Transfiguration, can you? Clearly Harry demonstrated that Potions is the much more complicated and harder subject matter. And I think Draco will back me up, right?"

You smiled a bit awkwardly for your usual smile, and I knew I was the only one that saw it. I was the only one that knew it was awkward. I read you better than I could read myself. But I guess that is what happens when you found your soulmate, isn't it?

"Draco," Minerva retorted, "can hardly be a proof that Potions is the harder subject matter when he only got an A in Transfiguration and yet got an E in Potions. If you go by Draco's grades, then you will have to admit that Transfiguration is clearly the more difficult medium to learn for wizards and witches. Harry is an entirely unacceptable example as Harry showed no talent in Potions and was clearly gifted in Transfiguration. Looking at the genetics, it's obvious that it was in his blood!"

Shit. Never bring up my parents with Severus, it was not a good thing. It was a very, very bad thing. You gave me a sideways look that said everything in a single gaze, _you wanted to come to lunch and this is what we get caught up in the middle… you are going to pay for this when we get back to our room. _I sighed inside.

"Minerva…" Severus growled.

"Now, now," Albus remarked, cutting into what would have become a full fledged argument between the two heads of houses, "don't you two think that each and every student has his or her own strength and that based on this difference in person, that one student may find Potions more challenging and another Transfiguration?"

It was a good argument. You were looking skeptical at the Headmaster's attempt at conciliation and I, I for one had to agree with you. It was good, but it wasn't good enough. Nice try, Albus.

"No," Severus snapped.

"Absolutely not," Minerva inserted a second later.

You and I were trying to back away slowly, inch by inch, hoping that Severus and Minerva would be too busy staring each other down or glaring at Albus to notice our directions out of the Great Hall. It was working…

"Would you like to join us?" Albus invited. He waved his hand and two more chairs popped up and we were effectively trapped.

You gave me a _I'm very unhappy _look.

I bite my bottom look and said silently, _what can I do? _

-

"What you can do," you murmured darkly, "is to be very, very nice to me," you pushed me against the wall, "and be very thankful that it was only lunch and part of the afternoon that we were stuck there," and your lips bent down and captured mine in a sizzling kiss.

I sighed against your lips and my tongue boldly slipped into your mouth to duel with yours. I could still taste the faint flavor of the chocolate dessert that you had indulged yourself in. I had always been fond of chocolate, but there was something special about it being mix with your unique flavor. I was crazy about it, crazy about you.

Who ever would have thought that I would ever fall in love with you? You were a Malfoy, ferret boy, and a Death Eater-in-training. But somehow, somewhere along the lines when I discovered that you weren't really a Death Eater at all--- that you had disobeyed your father and gotten disinherited to when I finally defeated Voldemort the summer after my 7th years, I did just that. I fell in love with you.

"Harry," your lips had left mine as we desperately needed some oxygen, "if we don't stop," you kissed me again, briefly, "we won't stop."

"Why stop?" I kissed you back.

"We have to." Your head bent down to nuzzle my Adam's apple.

I moaned. "Oh?"

"Pomfrey."

I gave a ragged sigh. You stopped nuzzling. We sagged against each other. It wasn't as if we didn't get to take advantage of the physical part of our relationship _very _often. We did it so often that it was a wonder that we weren't both walking around very sore. It wasn't as if we were deprived, far be it. We were overindulged, but that didn't make us want each other any less. If anything, our addiction fed our addiction.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's nearly time for your appointment with her."

I forgot when I had mentioned it to you. I must have done it sometime when we had been chasing the snitch. You always had the superior memory. If I hadn't told you this morning, no doubt I would have forgotten to shown up for the scheduled checkup. How I had kept this a secret for so long without you know, I don't know.

Albus had helped in it, I suspected. Somehow he had always managed to send me reminders in such a weird wacky way that was typical of him that you just dismissed it as some grandfatherly affection. Snape as well, he was the reason why I had finally had to tell.

When it hadn't been serious, Snape was all too willing to let it slide. After all, why concern you when you had already had enough to worry about with your mother? Your dear sweet mother locked in St. Mungo's mad as a banshee because of being separated from the love of her life. Was it kinder to keep her there or to subject her to Azkaban and the dementors?

I wasn't so sure we had made the right choice. Neither were you, but that was what we had decided and it was too late to transfer her to your father's side. Mad as she was, she wasn't as unhappy as she had been. And St. Mungo's medistaff provided excellent care that she would not have received in Azkaban. She was comfortable and happy in a demented way.

That was enough of a worry to plague you with. I hadn't wanted to add a small bout of cancer to the list. It wasn't that serious. Snape had agreed. It had taken some convincing, but he eventually agreed to help me with my charade. Even going as far as to covering up my visits to Poppy by saying I'd been down to consult him about some spell, which wasn't totally out there. The only person who knew as much about Defense as I did was Snape.

When it had started to get serious, he pushed me to tell you. I still hadn't wanted to. Poppy said I was getting better. The magi-chemotherapy I was receiving from a mediwizard cancer specialist was doing wonders to decreasing the dangerous white blood cell counts that were ravaging my healthy cells. It was under control now, but Snape had been right. I had to tell.

As well as the magi-chemotherapy was working, like it's muggle counterpart, chemotherapy, there were side affects. It wouldn't start showing for a while but it would eventually show up. I wasn't going to lose my hair, but I was going to start looking sickly. Already I could tell I wasn't feeling as well as I had been before. Already the magi-chemotherapy was zapping my strength.

You caught the snitch before me.

You assumed I had let you win, but I hadn't been able to keep up.

Slowly my strength was going to leave me. But I was getting better. Poppy was hopeful that with enough magi-chemotherapy that I wouldn't need a bone marrow transplant. If I did, it would be extremely difficult. With a living relative, I might have had a better chance of finding a match. Within the limited wizarding population, she doubted there would be a match for me and while the muggle world was much larger, there was the problem of identification _and _the long wait.

Unlike the muggles stricken with leukemia, the healing magic that Poppy and St. Mungo's specialists could supply would keep me out of danger should it reach that desperate level. But I didn't fancy being confided in a hospital room day in and day out because I needed round the clock magical care until a suitable bone marrow could be found. The magi-chemotherapy had to work.

If it didn't, maybe I might be lucky. Maybe there was a witch or wizard in the wizarding world that would be a suitable donor for me. Poppy had a tendency to be a bit pessimistic, but I preferred the pessimism to overwhelming optimism that would have clouded reality.

"Harry?" you murmured.

I must have drifted off in thought. I had an alarming tendency to do that when my mind was preoccupied with important matters. Another reason why it was amazing I had kept this a secret. It didn't help you had the attention to detail of a trained spy. "Yes?"

"We'd best go then?"

I nodded and you wrapped your arm around my waist. "Let's go."

-

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all your positive feedback. I really appreciate what you have to say and look forward to receiving more encouragement. As I already stated in Chapter One's A/N, Harry won't be dying. However, that doesn't mean he won't be sick and feel bad because of his magi-chemotherapy. This does have to be somewhat realistic. Draco's going to feel quite frustrated and helpless because of this, and well… I think that's normal. He's going to have to deal with it and be a loving and caring partner at the same time. If you have any ideas on what else I can do with the story, please let me know in your review. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this.

**TBC** _soon_.


	3. Sunset

**SEE THE SUN  
**By Nenya Entwhistle

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a brief turn in words.

**Warning:** This is slash and this has not been beta'd. Read at your own risk and do not bother sending me flames about the homo-love-lines. I'll just assume you can't read.

_I'm coming around to open the blinds  
__You can't hide here any longer  
__My god you need to rinse those puffy eyes  
__You can't lie still any longer  
__And yes they'll ask you where you've been  
__And you'll have to tell them, again and again  
__"See the Sun" (Dido)_

Three  
Sunset

You were sick. You got even sicker. Your face, always tanned and radiant became pale like the snow. Weasley would tease that you were picking up some of the Malfoy looks finally. That it was about time since we'd been bonded for years. You smiled, and I hid how the words torn my insides apart. I hated the way you looked. You looked weak, when I knew you were stronger than anyone I've known.

"Is he getting better?" Hermione would whisper into my ear softly while you and Weasley played one immature game after another. "I think he looks a tad less pale." I knew she said this to comfort me, to give me some hope. The magi-chemotherapy wasn't working as well as anyone of us had hoped. Poppy had suggested that your name be added to the muggle list of bone marrow donors.

If the wizarding world ever owed you anything, why could it not have given you life?

"Maybe," I would answer vaguely. "He's not been eating much, though. That infernal house elf that adores him, tries to tempt him with all his favorites but nothing really entices his appetite."

She would nod and we would go back to watching our lovers playing like children. We would smile fondly when they when occasionally turn to us and smile or whatnot. Sometimes, Hermione and I would talk about safer topics. Like when Hermione planned to help populate Hogwarts with the next Weasley generation. Other times we'd talk about books and research. Safe topics, topics that didn't hurt either of our hearts to think about.

Night would fall and we would go leave to go back to Hogwarts with the promise to visit again soon.

-

I liked touching you when you were still sleeping. I never realized it until just recently. It's probably because you've always been the early riser. I've always like to laze around in the bed. But now you sleep a lot, and I watch you because there's nothing better to do with my time. There's nothing I'd rather do.

My hand rests gently on your chest as it exhales and inhales. Your eyes are closed, probably lost in a dream. I would hope that you've gotten over all of your nightmares, but that's wishful thinking. Sometimes, I'll turn your head so that I can watch your perfect innocence.

Your lips are tempting, as tempting as they always are. I want to bend down and kiss them. Just like I want to rip the covers off your naked body and engulf your cock in my mouth. I want to make love to you until you can't move anymore, until you're overwhelmed by exhaustion. I want to make you sleep from that and not from the wretched magi-chemotherapy.

"Mrrr…" you groan as you roll over onto me. "Dra… co?"

"Yes," I whisper and even though you've got morning breath, I kiss you. "Mmmm…"

"Gross, love," you mutter when I pull away. "You should have been a Gryffindor." I frown and you laugh. "That was brave of you," you whisper. "To kiss me like that. I know, I must taste…"

"Wonderful," I finish, bending my head down to kiss you again. "But you'd taste even better," I remark, wiggling my nose, "if you brushed your teeth."

You chuckle and roll away from me to get out of the bed. I watch with desire smoldering eyes as your ripe ass cheeks drift into the bathroom with your half hard cock. It's nice to know that even though you're sick and you're tired, I can still arouse a response out of you. For isn't sex good for the body and soul?

-

Yesterday was one of the good days. You managed to get up and roll out of bed. Today is one of the bad days. You're lying in the bed, breathing faintly as if all the life in you has abandoned you. I pretend not to notice how you're struggling. You hate it when I remind you of your weakness. Instead, I go about as if everything is normal even though it's not.

Instead of eating breakfast in the kitchen, I bring you your favorites: chocolate pancakes and pumpkin juice. You gift me one of your pretty smiles, and I can't help but smile back. You pick at the pancakes, but I sit there and wait until you finish at least half of one and all the pumpkin juice before I dash to my class.

I hear you sigh and hear your head fall back to rest on the pillow. It's going to be another one of those days.

-

"I'm getting better," you would say some days. "I'm getting better."

It was like a mantra chant, if you said it repeatedly enough and said it hard enough, maybe it'd come true or maybe you'd really believe it. There was some muggle book that Hermione had found that said some cancer miracles occurred when there was enough belief in getting better. Since magic wasn't working, muggle psychology didn't seem too crazy.

I would hold you while you chanted, hold you and pray that everything you said would be true.

-

Lunchtime was when you took your second "sleep" voyage. I usually moped around in the Great Hall with the rest of the students and Professors. But sometimes I went over to Hogsmeade to visit Hermione. She'd made the offer months ago, and it'd taken months for me to take her up on it.

"Hello," she greeted me pleasantly. "How are things?" she asked as she stepped aside to allow me to enter.

"Same," I answered. "How are you?"

"Good," she responded. "Things are good."

"That's good to hear," I responded.

I plopped myself down on the couch and waited for her to get some sandwiches, whatnot. When she finally got some food together to eat, we'd sit together in the sitting room and talk about whatever we could talk about that didn't involve mentioning you. She knew I came to her because I needed some comfort, some strength so that I wouldn't be weak before you. She provided that. I understood then, why you loved her so.

"Do you like the sandwiches?"

"Yeah."

And that was how lunches at Hermione's usually were.

-

"Love?" you groan. Your eyes squint at the bright sun that is pouring into our room. "What time is it?"

"Nearly dinnertime," I answer, sitting down besides you and spooning you. "Do you want to go down to the Great Hall to eat or would you rather eat up in our rooms? Or maybe even go to Hogsmeade to see Hermione and Weasley?"

"No, I'd rather stay here." You smile shyly. "I want to do something with you after dinner…"

The smile I return is positively devious. "Naughty boy," I say. "Naughty Harry," I moan as I bend my head down to press my lips against yours. "You don't need to act like a shy, virgin lover. If you want my cock," I press my erection into your bum, "all you have to do is ask."

You chuckle softly, and I hate to admit it, weakly. But there's life in your laughter now that I hadn't heard in your voice this morning. You kept saying you were getting better. Maybe you were, and maybe you weren't. It didn't matter as long as you weren't getting worse. I could take the stasis.

"Wasn't I asking?" You lick my cheek.

I laugh. "You are such a feline," I state. "How you're a parselmouth still amazes me."

_I am because whatever I say in parseltongue you think is Slytherin sexy._

I don't understand a word, but my cock still jumps up with appreciation. Sometimes, you tell me what you say and other times you don't. You don't tell me this time, but it doesn't matter. No reason for you to waste your breath when I've got other plans for it tonight.

-

One day last week, I thought you were getting worse. But you said it was my imagination. That your nose wasn't really bleeding, even though I saw the bloody handkerchief you tried to hide. I let it pass because you wouldn't let me hold on to it.

Instead, you would ask me to make love to you and I would comply. I would bathe every inch of your skin with my tongue. I would take your half hard cock into my mouth, lavish it with every trick my tongue knew to get it to rise again. It took a lot of effort on my part and a lot of patience on yours to get you to a frenzied state. Sometimes, nothing worked.

Those were the night when you'd cry and I would hold you, spooned to me, and comfort you. You wanted to please me, and you knew I would not be pleased without having pleased you. You weren't upset that you were sick. You were upset that you couldn't please me anymore. I felt like such a selfish, selfish bastard.

-

"I'm not hungry," you whisper during dinner. The house elves, Dobby's doing probably, have catered a magnificent meal that would have tempted almost anyone. It didn't tempt you. "I…"

"You should eat something," I insist. I put some of your favorites on your plate, some fried chicken and mashed potatoes. "You need to keep your strength up." The magi-chemotherapy makes you weak, weaker than I've ever seen you.

You look away. "I can't."

"You can," I state. "You must." You must eat, or you will fade. And if you fade too much you will have to be taken to St. Mungo's and be under 24 hour intensive care. You don't want that, and neither do I. "You have to, Harry."

You pick up the fork, and you put a piece of chicken into your mouth that I've cut for you. You chew it slowly and eventually you swallow it. I smile and cut you another piece. You fork it and bring it to your mouth. You chew it, and I start cutting another piece again and again.

-

One day, Poppy burst into my classroom. I never remembered her ever making a spectacle of herself, but that day she did. She interrupted my classroom and dragged me out into the hallway. I thought, maybe something bad had happened to you, but the elation in her face said otherwise.

"You won't believe it," she babbled. "It's finally okay. It's finally going to be all right. I can't believe it myself. I mean, I knew, eventually that it was going to happen, but I always thought it was going to be too late. I was so worried. Harry's always ending up in my hospital ward, and this time I thought it'd be the last. I'm so happy. You don't know how happy I am Draco. I…"

"What are you talking about?" I interrupted. She wasn't making any sense, but at least no tears were streaming down her face and there was no sadness in her eyes. So I knew nothing bad had happened to you. Poppy was too fond of you to ever hide her emotions about where you stood. That made things easier _and_ harder. "Poppy?" I shook her. "What are you trying to say?"

Now tears were streaming down her face, and I panicked. "Poppy?!"

"A match has been found for Harry," she cried. "There's a match for Harry."

I dropped to my knees and cried, relieved.

-

Things didn't start getting easier though. The surgery came and went, and you're stuck in a muggle hospital for days on end. It'd been easier if we used medimagic to help you get your strength back faster, but Poppy didn't know how muggle methods and wizard methods mix. It's best to stick to one method at a time. So you got weaker and weaker, even though you're getting better and better.

-

"Hey love," you greet in bed. A weak smile's on your face, but there's color in your cheeks. Months ago when you said everything was going to be okay, and that you were getting better--- turned out to be. Aren't you the prophet, Harry Potter?

"Hey," I say, scooping you into my arms. You weigh so little that I'm mad that you got sick in the first place. I can see your ribs if I was to push your pajamas up, but I pretend that you do weigh something and it's an effort to lift you. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you whisper. You nuzzle my neck, your nose pressing against my Adam's apple. "Much better." Your tongue does some sinful swirling. "Don't I look better?"

I kiss your forehead. "You do. But you still need to eat more. How about a late night snack?"

You wiggle your nose in disgust. Even though your stomach has been settling better without the constant magi-chemotherapy, the thought of food still makes you ill. Too bad it's a necessary sustenance, isn't it?

"You need to eat, Harry," I tell you. "If you want to get better faster so…" I press a feather light kiss on your lips, "we can get to some more interesting _necessary _sustenance."

You moan and you press your half limp cock against my stomach. I know you've been getting better, definitely know, because you've been getting horny again. It's a beautiful thing, you being a randy slut.

"Mmm," you agree. "Mmm…"

"I love you, and you damn well are going to eat something," I declare, dumping you in front of a table full of your favorite foodstuffs.

You frown and try to hold onto me. "You're evil, love."

"Ah yes," I agree, holding up a chocolate dipped strawberry to your lips, "I am."

You devour it and the juices drip down my fingers. "I love you anyway."

"I know." I lick the red juice and imagine that soon it'll be your come I'm licking. "I know. Now eat, Harry."

"Bossy Slytherin git," you complain.

I smirk and keep feeding you. "Eat, Harry."

-

Nights later, we tumbled into bed. We made love like never before. I learned some little things I didn't use to know. How you liked my tongue to swirl in your belly button, then for me to hold my head up and blow into it. It made you wiggle and writhe in the bed in such lovely wild patterns. You moan helplessly…

And all I could do was, love you, love you, love you 'til the end of days.

-

**Author's Note:** Thanks for those that did review the last chapter. I actually wouldn't have finished this story without all the positive feedback on my LJ. If you want to read the NC-17 version, refer to my profile's link to my LJ then sift through the entries or you can go to my memories where I file away all my entries. Also, let me know what you think of this as this is the end of the story.

**THE END.**


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